CHAPTER XI.

CHACO SAVAGES.

The Gran Chaco, an immense region in the interior of the continent,

said to be 2,500,000 square miles in extent, is, without doubt, the

darkest part of "The Darkest Land." From time immemorial this has been

given up to the Indians; or, rather, they have proved so warlike that

the white man has not dared to enter the vast plain. The Chaco contains

a population of perhaps 3,000,000 of aborigines. These are divided into

many tribes, and speak numerous languages. From the military outposts

of Argentina at the south, to the Fort of Olimpo, 450 miles north, the

country is left entirely to the savage. The former are built to keep

back the Tobas from venturing south, and the latter is a Paraguayan

fort on the Brazilian frontier. Here about one hundred soldiers are

quartered and some fifty women banished, for the Paraguayan Government

sends its female convicts there. [Footnote: The women are not provided

with even the barest necessities of life. Here they are landed and,

perforce, fasten themselves like leeches on the licentious soldiery. I

speak from personal knowledge, for I have visited the "hell" of

Paraguay.] Between these forts and Bolivia, on the west, I have been

privileged to visit eight different tribes of Indians, all of them

alike degraded and sunken in the extreme; savage and wild as man,

though originally made in the image of God, can be.

The Chaco is a great unknown land. The north, described by Mr. Minchin,

Bolivian Government Explorer, as "a barren zone--an almost

uninterrupted extent of low, thorny scrub, with great scarcity of

water," and the centre and south, as I have seen in exploring journeys,

great plains covered with millions of palm trees, through which the

astonished traveller can ride for weeks without seeing any limit. In

the dry season the land is baked by the intense heat of the tropical

sun, and cracked into deep fissures. In the rainy season it is an

endless marsh--a veritable dead man's land. During a 200-mile ride, 180

lay through water with the sun almost vertical. All this country in

past ages must have been the bed of a great salt sea.

As I have said, the Chaco is peculiarly Indian territory, into which

the white man steps at his peril. I accepted a commission, however, to

examine and report on certain parts of it, so I left the civilized

haunts of men and set foot on the forbidden ground.

My first introduction to the savages in Chaco territory was at their

village of Teepmuckthlawhykethy (The Place Where the Cows Arrived).

They were busy devouring a dead cow and a newly-born calf, and I saw

their naked bodies through such dense clouds of mosquitos that in one

clap of the hands I could kill twenty or thirty. This Indian _toldo_

consists of three large wigwams, in which live about eighty of the most

degraded aborigines to be found on earth. When they learned I was not

one of the _Christians_ from across the river, and that I came well

introduced, they asked: Did I come across the _big water_ in a dug-out?

Was it a day's journey? Would I give them some of "the stuff that

resembles the eggs of the ant?" (their name for rice).

I was permitted to occupy a palm hut without a roof, but I slept under

a tiger's skin, and that kept off dew and rain. They reserved the right

to come and go in it as they pleased. The women, with naked babies

astride their hips, the usual way of carrying them, were particularly

annoying. A little girl, however, perhaps ten years old, named Supupnik

(Sawdust), made friends with me, and that friendship lasted during all

my stay with them. Her face was always grotesquely painted, but she was

a sweet child.

These Indians are of normal stature, and are always erect and stately,

perhaps because all burdens are borne by straps on the forehead. The

expression of the savage is peculiar, for he pulls out all the hair on

his face, even the eyelashes and eyebrows, and seems to think the

omission of that act would be a terrible breach of cleanliness. These

same individuals will, however, frequently be seen with their whole

body so coated with dirt that it could easily be scraped off with a

knife in cakes, as the housewife would scrape a burnt loaf! The first

use to which the women put the little round tin looking-glasses, which

I used for barter, was to admire their pretty (?) faces; but the men,

with a sober look, would search for the detested hair on lip or chin.

That I was so lost to decency as to suffer a moustache to cover my lip

was to them a constant puzzle and wonder, for in every other respect

the universal opinion was that I was a civilized kind of "thing." I

write _thing_ advisedly, for the white man is to them an inferior

creation--not a _person_.

In place of a beard or moustache, the inhabitant of the Chaco prefers

to paint his face, and sometimes he makes quite an artistic design.

These wild inhabitants of Central South America generally wear a skin

around the loins, or a string of ostrich feathers. Some tribes, as, for

example, the Chamacocos, dispense with either. The height of fashion is

to wear strings of tigers' teeth, deer's hoofs, birds' bills, etc.,

around the neck. Strings of feathers or wool are twisted around ankles

and wrists, while the thickly matted hair is adorned with plumes,

standing upright.

The men insert round pieces of wood in the lobe of the ear. Boys of

tender age have a sharp thorn pushed through the ear, where more

civilized nations wear earrings. This hole is gradually enlarged until

manhood, when a round piece, two inches in diameter and one and a half

inches thick, can be worn, not depending from the ear, but in the

gristle of it. The cartilage is thus so distended that only a narrow

rim remains around the ornament, and this may often be seen broken out.

Sometimes three or four rattles from the tail of the rattlesnake also

hang from the ear on to the shoulder.

These tribes of the Chaco were all vassals of the Inca at the advent of

the Spaniards. They had been by them reclaimed from savagery, and

taught many useful arts, one or two of which, such as the making of

blankets and string, they still retain. The Inca used the ear ornaments

of solid gold, but made in the form of a wheel. The nearest approach to

this old custom is when the wooden ear-plug is painted thus, as are

some in the author's possession.

I was fortunate in gaining the favor of the tribe living near the

river, and because of certain favors conferred upon them, was adopted

into the family. My face was painted, my head adorned with ostrich

plumes, and I was given the name of Wanampangapthling ithma (Big Cactus

Red Mouth). Because of this formal initiation, I was privileged to

travel where I chose, but to the native Paraguayan or Argentine the

Chaco is a forbidden land. The Indian describes himself as a _man_;

monkeys are _little men_; I was a _thing_; but the Paraguayans are

_Christians_, and that is the lowest degree of all. The priests they

see on the other side of the river are _Yankilwana_ (neither man nor

woman); and a _Yankilwana_, in his distinctive garb, could never tread

this Indian soil. So abhorrent to them is the name of Christian, that

the missionaries have been compelled to use another word to describe

their converts, and they are called "Followers of Jesus." All the

members of some large expeditions have been massacred just because they

were _Christians_. Surely this is convincing corroboration of my

remarks regarding the state of Roman Catholicism in those dark lands.

A few miserable-looking, diminutive sheep are kept by some tribes, and

the blankets referred to are made from the wool, which is torn off the

sheep with a sharp shell, or, if near the coast, with a knife. The

blankets are woven by hand across two straight branches of tree, and

they are sometimes colored in various shades. A bulbous root they know

of dyes brown, the cochineal insect red, and the bark of a tree yellow.

String is made from the fibre of the _caraguataî_ plant, and snail

shells are used to extract the fibre. This work is, of course, done by

the women, as is also the making of the clay pots they use for cooking.

The men only hunt.

All sleep on the ground, men, women, children and dogs, promiscuously.

The wigwams are nothing more than a few branches stuck in the ground

and tied at the top. The sides are left open. Very often even this most

primitive of dwellings is dispensed with, and the degraded beings crawl

under the shelter of the bushes. Furniture of any kind they are, of

course, wit-out, and their destitution is only equalled by the African

pigmy or the Australian black.

The Chaco is essentially a barren land, and the Indians' time seems

almost fully taken up in procuring food. The men, with bows and arrows,

hunt the deer, ostrich, fox, or wolf, while the women forage for roots

and wild fruit.

One tribe in the north of the Chaco are cannibals, and they

occasionally make war on their neighbors just to obtain food.

A good vegetable diet is the cabbage, which grows in the heart of

certain palms, and weighs three or four pounds. To secure this the tree

has perforce to be cut down. To the Indian without an axe this is no

light task. The palm, as is well known, differs from other trees by its

having the seat of life in the head, and not in the roots; so when the

cabbage is taken out the tree dies.

Anything, everything, is eaten for food, and a roasted serpent or

boiled fox is equally relished. During my stay among them I ceased to

ask of what the mess was composed; each dish was worse than the former.

Among the first dishes I had were mandioca root, a black carrion bird,

goat's meat, and fox's head. The puma, otter, ant-bear, deer,

armadillo, and ostrich are alike eaten, as is also the jaguar, a

ferocious beast of immense size. I brought away from those regions some

beautiful skins of this animal, the largest of which measures nearly

nine feet from nose to tail.

In the sluggish, almost salt, streams, fish are numerous, and these are

shot by the Indian with arrows, to which is attached a string of gut.

Lakes and rivers are also filled with hideous-looking alligators of all

sizes. These grow to the length of twelve or fifteen feet in these warm

waters, and the tail is considered quite a delicacy. Besides these

varied dishes, there is the electric eel; and, sunk in a yard depth of

mud, is the _lollock_, of such interest to naturalists The lollock is a

fish peculiar to the Chaco. Though growing to the length of three and

four feet, it has only rudimentary eyes, and is, in consequence, quite

blind; it is also unable to swim. The savage prods in the mud with a

long notched lance, sometimes for hours, until he sticks the appetizing

fish.

The steamy waters are so covered with aquatic plants that in some

places I have been able to walk across a living bridge. Once, when out

hunting, I came upon a beautiful forest glade, covered with a carpet of

green. Thinking it a likely place for deer, I entered, when lo, I sank

in a fœtid lake of slime. Throwing my gun on to the bank, I had quite a

difficulty to regain dry land.

In my journeyings here and there I employed one or another of the

braves to accompany me. All they could eat and some little present was

the pay. No sooner was the gift in their hand, however, after supper,

than they would put it back in mine and say, "Give me some more food?"

I was at first accompanied by Yantiwau (The Wolf Rider). Armed with a

bow and arrows, he was a good hunter for me, and a faithful servant,

but his custom of spitting on my knife and spoon to clean them I did

not like. When my supplies were getting low, and I went to the river

for a wash, he would say: "There's no _kiltanithliacack_ (soap)--only

_clupup_ (sand)." Yantiwau was interested in pictures; he would gaze

with wondering eyes at photos, or views of other lands, but he looked

at them _the wrong side up_, as they all invariably do. While possessed

of a profound respect for me in some ways, he thought me very lacking

in common knowledge. While I was unable to procure game, through not

seeing any, he could call the bird to him in a "ducky, ducky, come and

be killed" kind of way; and my tongue was parched when he would scent

water. This was sometimes very easy to smell, however, for it was

almost impossible to drink out of a waterhole without holding the nose

and straining the liquid through my closed teeth. Chaco water at best

is very brackish, and on drying off the ground a white coat of salt is

left.

My Indian's first and last thought was of his stomach. While capable of

passing two or three days without eating, and feeling no pangs of

hunger, yet, when food was to hand, he gorged himself, and could put

away an incredible amount. Truly, his make-up was a constant wonder to

me. Riding through the "hungry belt" I would be famishing, but to my

question: "Are you hungry?" he would answer, "No." After a toilsome

journey, and no supper at the end: "Would you like to eat?" "No." But

let an ostrich or a deer come in sight, and he could not live another

minute without food! Another proof to Yantiwau of my incapacity was the

fact that when my matches were all used I could not light the fire. He,

by rubbing a blunt-pointed hard stick in a groove of soft wood, could

cause such a friction that the dust would speedily ignite, and set fire

to the dry twigs which he was so clever in collecting. Although such a

simple process to the Indian, I never met a white man who could use the

firesticks with effect.

Sitting by the camp-fire in the stillness of evening, my guide would

draw attention to a shooting star. "Look! That is a bad witch doctor,"

he would say. "Did you notice he went to the west? Well, the Toothlis

live there. He has gone for vengeance!"

The wide palm plains are almost uninhabited; I have journeyed eighty

miles without sighting human being or wigwam. In the rainy season the

trees stand out of a sea-like expanse of steaming water, and one may

wade through this for twenty miles without finding a dry place for

bivouac. Ant hills, ten and fifteen feet high, with dome-shaped roofs,

dot the wild waste like pigmy houses, and sometimes they are the only

dry land found to rest on. The horses flounder through the mire, or

sink up to the belly in slime, while clouds of flies make the life of

man and beast a living death. Keys rust in the pocket, and boots mildew

in a day. At other seasons, as I know by painful experience, the

hard-baked ground is cracked up into fissures, and not a drop of water

is to be found in a three days' journey. The miserable savages either

sit in utter dejection on logs of wood or tree roots, viewing the

watery expanse, or roam the country in search of _yingmin_ (water).

Whereas the Caingwas may be described as inoffensive Indians, the

inhabitants of the Chaco are _savages_, hostile to the white man, who

only here and there, with their permission, has settled on the river

bank. Generally a people of fine physique and iron constitution, free

from disease of any kind, they are swept into eternity in an incredibly

short space of time if _civilized_ diseases are introduced. Even the

milder ones, such as measles, decimate a whole tribe; and I have known

communities swept away as autumn leaves in a strong breeze with the

_grippe_. I was informed that the hospital authorities at Asuncion gave

them the cast-off fever clothing of their patients during an epidemic

to sweep them off the face of the earth!

The Indians have been ill-treated from the beginning. Darwin relates

that, in their eagerness to exterminate the red men, the Argentine

troops have pursued them for three days without food. On the frontier

they are killed in hundreds; by submitting to the white man they die in

thousands. Latin civilization is more terrible to them than war. Sad to

state, their only hope is to fight, and this the savage affirms he will

do for ever and ever.

Francia, the Dictator of Paraguay, ordered every Indian found--man,

woman or child--to be put to death! Lopez, a later ruler, took sport in

hunting Indians like deer. We are told that on one occasion he was so

successful as to kill forty-eight! The children he captured and sold

into slavery at fifteen and twenty dollars each. The white settler

considers himself very brave if he kills the savage with a rifle

sighted at five hundred yards, while well out of range of the Indians'

arrows, and I have known them shot just "for fun"! The Indians

retaliate by _cutting off the heels_ of their white captives, or

leaving them, _in statu naturae_, bound with thongs on an anthill; and

a more terrible death could not be devised by even the inquisitor,

Torquemada, of everlasting execration. The Indian is hard and cruel,

indifferent to pain in himself or others. A serpent may sting a

comrade, and he takes no notice; but let one find food and there is a

general scamper to the spot. The Chaco savage is barbarous in the

extreme. The slain enemies are often eaten, and the bones burnt and

scattered over their food. The children of enemies are traded off to

other tribes for more food.

The Chaco Indian is a born warrior. Sad to say, his only hope is to

fight against the Latin paleface.

Most of us have at times been able to detect a peculiar aroma in the

negro. The keen-scented savage detects that something in us, and we

"smell" to them. Even I, _Big Cactus Red Mouth_, was not declared free

from a subtle odor, although I washed so often that they wondered my

skin did not come off. _They never wash_, and in damp weather the dirt

peels from them in cakes. Of course they _don't_ smell!

When a man or woman is, through age, no longer capable of looking after

the needs of the body, a shallow grave is dug, the aged one doubled up

until the knees are pressed into the hollow cheeks, and the back is

broken. This terrible work done, the undesired one is dragged by one

leg to the open tomb. Sometimes the face and whole body is so mangled,

by being pulled through thorns and over uneven ground, that it is not

recognizable, and the nose has at times been actually torn off. While

sometimes still alive, the body is covered up with mother earth.

Frequently the grave is so shallow that the matted hair may be seen

coming out at the top. The burial is generally made near a wood, and,

if passible, under the _holy wood tree_, which, in their judgment, has

great influence with evil spirits. Wild beasts, attracted by the odor

of the corpse, soon dig up the remains, and before next day it is

frequently devoured.

An _ordinary_ burial service may be thus described: A deep cut is first

made in the stomach of the departed one. Into this incision a stone,

some bone ash, and a bird's claw are introduced. The body is then

placed over the grave on two sticks, a muttering incantation is said by

the witch doctor, and the sticks are roughly knocked from under the

body, so as to permit it to fall in a sitting posture. A bow and

arrows, and some food and cooking utensils, are dropped into the grave.

All shooting stars, according to the Indian belief, are flying stones;

hence the custom of placing a stone in the stomach of the dead. It is

supposed to be able to mount heavenward, and, assuming its true

character, become the avenging adversary, and destroy the one who

caused the death--always a bad witch doctor. The bird's claw scratches

out the enemy's heart, and the ashes annihilate the spirit. One of the

missionaries in the Lengua tribe stated that he assisted at the burial

of a woman where the corpse fell head foremost into the grave, the feet

remaining up. Four times the attempt to drop her in right was made,

with similar results, and finally the husband deliberately broke his

dead wife's neck, and bent the head on to the back; then he broke her

limbs across his knee, and so the ghastly burial was at last completed!

Truly, "the dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of

cruelty." Let the one whose idea is to "leave the pagan in his

innocency" visit these savages, and, if he lives to tell it, his ideas

will have undergone a great change. They are _lost!_ and millions have

not yet heard of the "Son of Man," who "came to seek and to save that

which was lost."

At the death of any member, the _toldo_ in which he lived is burnt, all

his possessions are destroyed, and the people go into mourning. The

hair of both sexes is cut short or pulled out, and each one has the

face blackened with a vegetable dye, which, from experience, I know

hardly ever wears off again. As I have said, everything the man owned

in life is burnt and the village is deserted; all move right away to

get out of the presence of the death-giving spirit. To me the _toldo_

would not only seem abandoned, but the people gone without leaving a

trace of their path; but not so to Wolf Rider, my guide. By the

position of the half-burnt wood of the fire, he could tell the

direction they had taken, and the number gone--although each steps in

the other's footprints--whether they were stopping to hunt on the way,

and much more he would never tell me. Some of the missionaries have

spent ten years in the Chaco, but cannot get the savage to teach them

this lesson of signs.

In some tribes the aged ones are just _"left to die"_ sitting under a

palm-leaf mat. All the members of the tribe move away and leave them

thus. Many are the terrible things my eyes have witnessed, but surely

the most pathetic was the sight of an old woman sitting under the mat.

I was one day riding alone, but had with me two horses, when I caught

sight of the palm-leaf erection and the solitary figure sitting under

it. Getting down from my horse, I approached the woman and offered to

take her to a place of safety, promising to feed her and permit her to

live as long as she chose. Would she come with me? I begged and

entreated, but the poor woman would not so much as lift her eyes to

mine. The law of her tribe had said she must die, and the laws are to

them unalterable. Most reluctantly, I left her to be eaten later on by

the wild beasts.

Terrible as this custom is, other tribes kill and eat their aged

parents "as a mark of respect." Another tribe will not permit one

member to go into the spirit world alone, so they hang another one, in

order that there may be two to enter together.

Whereas the Caingwas are a religious people, even attributing their

custom of piercing the lip to divine commandment, the Chaco aborigines

have no god and no religion. Missionaries in the solitary station I

have referred to, after ten years' probing, have been unable to find

any approach to worship in their darkened minda. "The miserable

wretches who inhabit that vast wilderness are so low in the scale of

reasoning beings that one might doubt whether or not they have human

souls." [Footnote: Washburn's "History of Paraguay."] These "lost

sheep" have no word to express God, and have no idols. "The poverty of

the Indian dialects of the Chaco is scarcely surpassed by that of the

dumb brutes."

These wretched tribes have perfect community of goods; what is secured

by one belongs equally to all. A piece of cloth is either torn up and

distributed, or worn in turns by each one. The shirt which I gave my

guide, Yantiwau, for much arduous toil, was worn by one and another

alternately. Much as the savage at first desires to possess some

garment, it does not take long for him to tire of it. All agree with

Mark Twain, that "the human skin is the most comfortable of all

costumes," and, clothed in the sunlight, the human form divine is not

unlovely.

Sometimes the Indians of the interior take skins, etc., to the

Paraguayan towns across the river. Not knowing the use of money, their

little trading is done by barter. Their knowledge of value is so crude

that on one occasion they refused a two-dollar axe for an article, but

gladly accepted a ten-cent knife. The Chaco Indian, however, is seldom

seen in civilization. His home is in the interior of an unknown

country, which he wanders over in wild freedom. While the Caingwas are

homekeeping, these savages are nomadic, and could not settle down. The

land is either burnt up or inundated, so they do not plant, but live

only by the chase. So bold and daring are they that a man, armed only

with a lance, will attack a savage jaguar; or, diving under an

alligator, he will stab it with a sharpened bone. The same man will run

in abject terror if he thinks he hears _spirits_.

Though not religious, the savages are exceedingly superstitious, afraid

of ghosts and evil spirits, and the fear of these spectral visitants

pursues them through life. During a storm they vigorously shake their

blankets and mutter incantations to keep away supernatural visitors.

All diseases are caused by evil spirits, or the moon; and a comet

brings the measles. The help of the witch doctor has to be sought on

all occasions, for his special work is to drive away the evil spirit

that has taken possession of a sick one. This he does by rattling a

hollow calabash containing stones. That important person will perform

his mystic _hocus pocus_ over the sick or dying, and charm away the

spirits from a neighborhood. I have known an Indian, when in great pain

through having eaten too much, send for the old fakir, who, after

examination of the patient and great show of learning, declared that

the suffering one _had two tigers in his stomach_. A very common remedy

is the somewhat scientific operation of bleeding a patient, but the

manner is certainly uncommon--the witch doctor sucks out the blood. One

I was acquainted with, among the Lengua tribe, professed to suck three

cats out of a man's stomach. His professional name was thereafter

"Father of Kittens." The doctor's position is not one to be envied,

however, for if three consecutive patients die, he must follow them

_down the dark trail!_

These medicine-men are experts in poisons, and their enemies have a way

of dying suddenly. It cannot be denied that the Indians have a very

real knowledge of the healing virtues of many plants. The writer has

marvelled at the cures he has seen, and was not slow to add some of

their methods to his medical knowledge. Not a few who have been healed,

since the writer's return to civilization, owe their new life to the

knowledge there learned.

Infanticide is practised in every tribe, and in my extensive wanderings

among eight _toldos_, I never met a family with more than two children.

The rest are killed! A child is born, and the mother immediately knocks

it on the head with a club! After covering the baby with a layer of

earth, the woman goes about as if nothing had occurred. One chief of

the Lengua tribe, that I met, had himself killed nineteen children. An

ironwood club is kept in each _toldo_ for this gruesome work.

Frequently a live child is buried with a dead parent; but I had better

leave much of their doings in the inkpot.

When a girl enters the matrimonial market, at about the age of twelve

or thirteen, her face is specially colored with a yellow paint, made

from the flower of the date palm, and the aspirant to her hand brings a

bundle of firewood, neatly tied up, which he places beside her earthen

bed at early morning. As the rising sun gilds the eastern sky, the girl

awakes out of her sleep, rubs her eyes,--and sees the sticks. Well does

she know the meaning of it, and a glad light flashes in her dark eyes

as she cries out, "Who brought the sticks?" All men, women and

children, take up the cry, and soon the whole encampment resounds with,

"Who brought the sticks?" The medicine-man, who sleeps apart from the

"common herd" under an incense-tree, hears the din, and, quickly

donning his head-dress, hurries down to the scene. With an

authoritative voice, which even the chief himself does not use, he

demands, "Who brought the sticks?" until a young brave steps forward in

front of him and replies, "Father of Kittens, I brought the sticks."

This young man is then commanded to stand apart, the girl is hunted

out, and together they wait while the witch-doctor X-rays them through

and through. After this close scrutiny, they are asked: "Do you want

this man?" "Do you want this girl?" To which they reply, "Yes, Father

of Kittens, I do." Then, with great show of power, the medicine-man

says, "Go!" and off the newly-married pair start, to live together

until death (in the form of burial) does them part.

It may be a great surprise to the reader to learn that these savages

are exceedingly moral. Infidelity between man and wife is punished with

death, but in all my travels I only heard of one such case. A man

marries only one wife, and although any expression of love between them

is never seen, they yet seem to think of one another in a tender way,

and it is especially noticeable that the parents are kind to their

children.

One evening I rode into an encampment of savages who were celebrating a

feast. About fifty specially-decked-out Indians were standing in a

circle, and one of the number had a large and very noisy rattle, with

which he kept time to the chant of Há há há há há! ú ú ú ú ú! ó ó ó óó!

aú aú aú aú aú! The lurid lights of the fires burning all around lit up

this truly savage scene. The witch-doctor, the old fakir named "Father

of Kittens," came to me and looked me through and through with his

piercing eyes. I was given the rattle, and, although very tired, had to

keep up a constant din, while my wild companions bent their bodies in

strange contortions. In the centre of the ring was a woman with a

lighted pipe in her hand. She passed this from one to another and

pushed it into the mouth of each one, who had "a draw." My turn came,

and lo! the pipe was thrust between my teeth, and the din went on: Há

há! ú ú! ó ó! aú aú! This feast lasted three nights and two days, but

the music was not varied, and neither man nor woman seemed to sleep or

rest. Food was cooking at the different fires, attended by the women,

but my share was only a _roasted fox's head!_ The animal was laid on

the wood, with skin, head and legs still attached, and the whole was

burnt black. I was very hungry, and ate my portion thankfully.

Christopher North said: "There's a deal of fine confused feeding about

a sheep's head," and so I found with the fox's. Truly, as the Indian

says, "hunger is a very big man."

At these feasts a drum, made by stretching a serpent's skin over one of

their clay pots, is loudly beaten, and the thigh-bone of an ostrich,

with key-holes burned in, is a common musical instrument. From the

_algarroba_ bean an intoxicating drink is made, called _ang-min_, and

then yells, hellish sounds and murderous blows inspire terror in the

paleface guest. "It is impossible to conceive anything more wild and

savage than the scene of their bivouac. Some drink till they are

intoxicated, others swallow the steaming blood of slaughtered animals

for their supper, and then, sick from drunkenness, they cast it up

again, and are besmeared with gore and filth."

After the feast was over I held a service, and told how sin was

_injected_ into us by the evil spirit, but that all are invited to the

heavenly feast. My address was listened to in perfect silence, and the

nodding heads showed that some, at least, understood it. When I

finished speaking, a poor woman, thinking she must offer something,

gave me her baby--a naked little creature that had never been washed in

its life. I took it up and kissed it, and the poor woman smiled. Yes, a

savage woman can smile.

As already stated, many different tribes of Indians dwell in the Chaco,

and each have their different customs. In the Suhin tribe the rite of

burial may be thus described. "The digger of the grave and the

performer of the ceremony was the chief, who is also a witch-doctor,

and I was told that he was about to destroy the witch-doctor who had

caused the man's death. A fire was lit, and whilst the digging was in

progress a stone and two pieces of iron were being heated. Two bones of

a horse, a large bird's nest built of sticks, and various twigs were

collected. The skin of a jaguar's head, a tooth, and the pads of the

same animal were laid out. A piece of wax and a stone were also heated;

and in a heap lay a hide, some skins for bedding, and a quantity of

sheep's wool. The grave being finished, the ceremony began by a wooden

arrow being notched in the middle and waxed, then plunged into the

right breast of the corpse, when it was snapped in two at the notch,

and the remaining half was flung into the air, accompanied with a

vengeful cry, in the direction of the Toothli tribe, one of whose

doctors, it was supposed, had caused the man's death. Short pointed

sticks, apparently to represent arrows, were also daubed with wax, two

being plunged into the throat and one into the left breast, the cry

again accompanying each insertion. One of the jaguar's pads was next

taken, and the head of the corpse torn by the claws, the growl of the

animal being imitated during the process. An incision was next made in

the cheek, and the tooth inserted; then the head and face were daubed

with the heated wax. The use of the wax is evidently to signify the

desire that both arrows and animal may stick to the man if he be

attacked by either. The arrows were plunged, one into the right breast

downwards, and another below the ribs, on the same side, but in an

upward direction, a third being driven into the right thigh. They also

spoke about breaking one of the arms, but did not do so. An incision

being made in the abdomen, the heated stone was then placed within the

body. They place most reliance upon the work of the stone. The ceremony

is known by the name of 'Mátaimáng' stone, and all the other things are

said to assist it. Meteorites, when seen to pass along the sky, are

regarded with awe; they are believed to be these stones in passage. The

body was placed in the grave with the head to the west, the jaguar's

head and pads being first placed under it. A bunch of grass, tied

together, was placed upon the body; then the bird's nest was burned

upon it. The bones were next thrown in, and over all the various

articles before mentioned were placed. These were to accompany the soul

in its passage to the west. In this act the idea of a future state is

more distinctly seen than ever it has been seen amongst the Lenguas,

who burn all a man's possessions at his death. The ceremony finished,

the grave was covered in, logs and twigs being carelessly thrown on the

top, apparently simply to indicate the existence of a grave. The thing

which struck me most was the intense spirit of vengeance shown."

Notwithstanding such terrible savagery, however, the Indian has ideas

of right and wrong that put Christian civilization to shame. The people

are perfectly _honest_ and _truthful_. I believe they _cannot lie_, and

stealing is entirely unknown among them.

Many are the experiences I have had in the Chaco. Some of them haunt me

still like ghostly shadows. The evening camp-fire, the glare of

which lit up and made more hideous still my savage followers,

gorging themselves until covered with filth and gore. The times when,

from sheer hunger, I have, like them, torn up bird or beast and eaten

it raw. The draughts of water from the Indian hole containing the

putrefying remains of some dead animal; my shirt dropping off in rags

and no wash for three weeks. The journeys through miles of malarial

swamps and pathless wilderness. The revolting food, and the want of

food. Ah! the memory is a bad dream from which I must awake.

The other side, you say? Yes, there is another. A cloudless blue sky

overhead. The gorgeous air-flowers, delicate and fragrant. Trees

covered with a drapery of orchidaceae. The loveliest of flowers and

shrubs. Birds of rainbow beauty, painted by the hand of God, as only He

can. Flamingoes, parrots, humming-birds, butterflies of every size and

hue. Arborescent ferns; cacti, thirty feet high, like huge candelabra.

Creeping plants growing a hundred feet, and then passing from the top

of one ever-vernal tree to another, forming a canopy for one from the

sun's rays. Chattering monkeys. Deer, with more beautiful eyes than

ever woman had since Eve fell. The balmy air wafting incense from the

burning bush; and last, but oh, not least, the joy in seeing the

degraded aborigine learning to love the "Light of the World"! Yes,

there are delights; but "life is real, life is earnest," and a meal of

_algarroba_ beans (the husks of the prodigal son of Luke XV.) is not

any more tempting if eaten under the shade of a waving palm of

surpassing beauty.

The mission station previously referred to lies one hundred miles in

from the river bank, three hundred miles north of Asuncion, among the

Lengua Indians. As far as I am aware, no Paraguayan has ever visited

there. The missionaries wish their influence to be the only one in

training the Indian mind. The village bears the strange name of

Waikthlatemialwa (The Place Where the Toads Arrived). At the invitation

of the missionaries, I was privileged to go there and see their work. A

trail leads in from the river bank, but it is so bad that bullock carts

taking in provisions occupy ten and twelve days on the journey. Tamaswa

(The Locust Eater), my guide, led me all during the first day out

through a palm forest, and at night we slept on the hard ground. The

Indian was a convert of the mission, and although painted, feathered

and almost naked, seemed really an exemplary Christian. The

missionaries labored for eleven years without gaining a single convert,

but Tamaswa is not the only "follower of Jesus" now. During the day we

shot a deer, and that evening, being very hungry, I ate perhaps two

pounds of meat. Tamaswa finished the rest! True, it was only a small

deer, but as I wish to retain my character for veracity, I dare not say

how much it weighed. This meal concluded, we knelt on the ground. I

read out of the old Book: "I go to prepare a place for you," and Locust

Eater offered a simple prayer for protection, help and safety to the

God who understands all languages.

My blanket was wet through and through with the green slime through

which we had waded and splashed for hours, but we curled ourselves up

under a beer barrel tree and tried to sleep. The howling jaguars and

other beasts of prey in the jungle made this almost impossible. Several

times I was awakened by my guide rising, and, by the light of a palm

torch, searching for wood to replenish the dying fire, in the smoke of

which we slept, as a help against the millions of mosquitos buzzing

around. Towards morning a large beast of some kind leaped right over

me, and I rose to rekindle the fire, which my guide had suffered to die

out, and then I watched until day dawned. As all the deer was consumed,

we started off without breakfast, but were fortunate later on in being

able to shoot two wild turkeys.

That day we rode on through the endless forest of palms, and waded

through a quagmire at least eight miles in extent, where the green

slime reached up to the saddle-flaps. On that day we came to a sluggish

stream, bearing the name of "Aptikpangmakthlaingwainkyapaimpangkya"

(The Place Where the Pots Were Struck When They Were About to Feast).

There a punt was moored, into which we placed our saddles, etc., and

paddled across, while the horses swam the almost stagnant water.

Saddling up on the other side, we had a journey of thirty miles to make

before arriving at a waterhole, where we camped for the second night. I

don't know what real nectar is, but that water was nectar to me,

although the horses sniffed and at first refused to drink it.

At sunset on the third day we emerged from the palm forest and endless

marshes, and by the evening of the fourth day the church, built of palm

logs, loomed up on the horizon. Many of the Indians came out to meet

us, and my arrival was the talk of the village. The people seemed

happy, and the missionaries made me at home in their roughly-built log

shanties. Next morning I found a gift had been brought me by the

Indians. It was a beautiful feather headdress, but it had just been

left on the step, the usual way they have of making presents. The

Indian expects no thanks, and he gives none. The women received any

present I handed them courteously but silently. The men would accept a

looking-glass from me and immediately commence to search their face for

any trace of "dirty hairs," probably brought to their mind by the sight

of mine, but not even a grunt of satisfaction would be given. No Chaco

language has a word for "thanks."

[Illustration: TAMASWA (THE LOCUST EATER) PROCURING FOOD. This young

man could put the point of his arrow into a deer's eye a hundred yards

distant]

[Illustration: FASHIONS OF THE CHACO.]

There is, among the Lenguas, an old tradition to the effect that for

generations they have been expecting the arrival of some strangers who

would live among them and teach them about the spirit-world. These

long-looked-for teachers were called _The Imlah_. The tradition says

that when the Imlah arrive, all the Indians must obey their teaching,

and take care that the said Imlah do not again leave their country, for

if so they, the Indians, would disappear from the land. When Mr. Grubb

and his helpers first landed, they were immediately asked, "Are you the

Imlah?" and to this question they, of course, answered yes. Was it not

because of this tradition that the Indian who later shot Mr. Grubb with

a poisoned arrow was himself put to death by the tribe?

About twenty boys attend the school established at Waikthlatemialwa,

and strange names some of them bear; let Haikuk (Little Dead One) serve

as an example. It is truly a cheering sight to see this sign of a

brighter day. When these boys return to their distant _toldos_ to tell

"the news" to their dark-minded parents, the most wonderful of all to

relate is "Liklamo ithnik ñata abwathwuk enthlit God; hingyahamok

hikñata apkyapasa apkyitka abwanthlabanko. Aptakmilkischik sat ankuk

appaiwa ingyitsipe sata netin thlamokthloho abyiam." [Footnote: John

3:16]

Well might the wondering mother of "Dark Cloud" call her next-born

"Samai" (The Dawn of Day).

The Indian counts by his hands and feet. Five would be one hand, two

hands ten, two hands and a foot fifteen, and a specially clever savage

could even count "my two hands and my two feet." Now Mr. Hunt is

changing that: five is _thalmemik_, ten _sohok-emek_, fifteen

_sohokthlama-eminik_, and twenty _sohok-emankuk_.

When a boy in school desires to say eighteen, he must first of all take

a good deep breath, for _sohok-emek-wakthla-mok-eminick-antanthlama_ is

no short word. This literally means: "finished my hands--pass to my

other foot three."

At the school I saw the skin of a water-snake twenty-six feet nine

inches long, but a book of pictures I had interested the boys far more.

The mission workers have each a name given to them by the Indians, and

some of them are more than strange. Apkilwankakme (The Man Who Forgot

His Face) used to be called Nason when he moved in high English

circles; now he is ragged and torn-looking; but the old Book my mother

used to read says: "He that loseth his life for My sake shall find it."

Some of us have yet to learn that if we would remember _His face_ it is

necessary for us to forget our own. If the unbeliever in mission work

were to go to Waik-thlatemialwa, he would come away a converted man.

The former witch-doctor, who for long made "havoc," but has since been

born again, would tell him that during a recent famine he talked to the

Unseen Spirit, and said: "Give us food, God!" and that, when only away

a very short while, his arrows killed three ostriches and a deer. He

would see Mrs. Mopilinkilana walking about, clothed and in her right

mind. Who is she? The murderess of her four children--the woman who

could see the skull of her own boy kicking about the _toldo_ for days,

and watch it finally cracked up and eaten by the dogs. Can such as she

be changed? The Scripture says: "Every one that believeth."

The Lengua language contains no word for God, worship, praise,

sacrifice, sin, holiness, reward, punishment or duty, but their

meanings are now being made clear.

The church at Waikthlatemialwa has no colored glass windows--old canvas

bags take their place. The reverent worshippers assemble morning and

evening, in all the pride of their paint and feathers, but there is no

hideous idol inside; nay! they worship the invisible One, whom they can

see even with closely shut eyes. To watch the men and women, with erect

bearing, and each walking in the other's footsteps, enter the church,

is a sight well worth the seeing. They bow themselves, not before some

fetish, as one might suppose, but to the One whom, having not seen,

some of them are learning to love.

One of the missionaries translated my simple address to the dusky

congregation, who listened with wondering awe to the ever-new story of

Jesus. As the Lengua language contains no word for God, the Indians

have adopted our English word, and both that name and Jesus came out in

striking distinctness during the service, and in the fervent prayer of

the old ex-witch-doctor which followed. With the familiar hymn, "There

is a green hill far away," the meeting concluded. The women with

nervous air silently retired, but the men saluted me, and some even

went so far as to shake hands--with the left hand. Would that similar

stations were established all over this neglected land! While churches

and mission buildings crowd each other in the home lands, the Chaco,

with an estimated population of three millions, must be content with

this one ray of light in the dense night.

On that far-off "green hill" we shall meet some even from the Lengua

tribe. Christ said: "I am the door; by Me if _any_ man enter in, he

shall be saved." But oh, "Painted Face," you spoke truth; the white

"thing" _is_ selfish, and keeps this wondrous knowledge to himself.

PART IV.

BRAZIL

[Illustration]

"There can be no more fascinating field of labor than Brazil,

notwithstanding the difficulty of the soil and the immense tracts of

country which have to be traversed. It covers half a continent, and is

_three times the size of British India_. Far away in the interior there

exist numerous Indian tribes with, as yet, no written language, and

consequently no Bible. Thrust back by the white man from their original

homes, these children of the forest and the river are, perhaps, the

most needy of the tribes of the earth. For all that these millions

know, the Gospel is non-existent and Jesus Christ has never visited and

redeemed the world." [Footnote: The Neglected Continent]

BRAZIL

The Republic of Brazil has an area of 3,350,000 square miles. From

north to south the country measures 2,600 miles, and from east to west

2,500 miles. While the Republic of Bolivia has no sea coast, Brazil has

3,700 miles washed by ocean waves. The population of this great empire

is twenty-two millions. Out of this perhaps twenty millions speak the

Portuguese language.

"If Brazil was populated in the same proportion as Belgium is per

square mile, Brazil would have a population of 1,939,571,699. That is

to say, Brazil, a single country in South America, could hold and

support the entire population of the world, and hundreds of millions

more, the estimate of the earth's population at the beginning of the

twentieth century being 1,600,000,000." [Footnote: Bishop Neely's

"South America."]

Besides the millions of mules, horses and other animals, there are, in

the republic, twenty-five millions of cattle.

Brazil is rich in having 50,000 miles of navigable waterways. Three of

the largest rivers of the world flow through its territory. The Orinoco

attains a width of four miles, and is navigable for 1,400 miles. The

Amazon alone drains a basin of 2,500,000 square miles.

Out of this mighty stream there flows every day three times the volume

of water that flows from the Mississippi. Many a sea-captain has

thought himself in the ocean while riding its stormy bosom. That most

majestic of all rivers, with its estuary 180 miles wide, is the great

highway of Brazil. Steamboats frequently leave the sea and sail up its

winding channels into the far interior of Ecuador--a distance of nearly

4,000 miles. All the world knows that both British and American

men-of-war have visited the city of Iquitos in Peru, 2,400 miles up the

Amazon River. The sailor on taking soundings has found a depth of 170

feet of water at 2,000 miles from the mouth. Stretches of water and

impenetrable forest as far as the eye can reach are all the traveller

sees.

Prof. Orton says: "The valley of the Amazon is probably the most

sparsely populated region on the globe," and yet Agassiz predicted that

"the future centre of civilization of the world will be in the Amazon

Valley." I doubt if there are now 500 acres of tilled land in the

millions of square miles the mighty river drains. Where cultivated,

coffee, tobacco, rubber, sugar, cocoa, rice, beans, etc., freely grow,

and the farmer gets from 500 to 800-fold for every bushel of corn he

plants. Humboldt estimated that 4,000 pounds of bananas can be produced

in the same area as 33 pounds of wheat or 99 pounds of potatoes.

The natural wealth of the country is almost fabulous. Its mountain

chains contain coal, gold, silver, tin, zinc, mercury and whole

mountains of the very best iron ore, while in forty years five million

carats of diamonds have been sent to Europe. In 1907 Brazil exported

ten million dollars' worth of cocoa, seventy million dollars' worth of

rubber; and from the splendid stone docks of Santos, which put to shame

anything seen on this northern continent, either in New York or Boston,

there was shipped one hundred and forty-two million dollars' worth of

coffee. Around Rio Janeiro alone there are a hundred million coffee

trees, and the grower gets two crops a year.

Yet this great republic has only had its borders touched. It is

estimated that there are over a million Indians in the interior, who

hold undisputed possession of four-fifths of the country. Three and a

quarter million square miles of the republic thus remains to a great

extent an unknown, unexplored wilderness. In this area there are over a

million square miles of virgin forest, "the largest and densest on

earth." The forest region of the Amazon is twelve hundred miles east to

west, and eight hundred miles north to south, and this sombre, primeval

woodland has not yet been crossed. [Footnote: Just as this goes to

press the newspapers announce that the Brazilian Government has

appropriated $10,000 towards the expenses of an expedition into the

interior, under the leadership of Henry Savage Landor, the English

explorer.]

Brazil's federal capital, Rio de Janeiro, stands on the finest harbor

of the world, in which float ships from all nations. Proudest among

these crafts are the large Brazilian gunboats. "It is a curious

anomaly," says the _Scientific American_, "that the most powerful

Dreadnought afloat should belong to a South American republic, but it

cannot be denied that the _Minas Geraes_ is entitled to that

distinction." This is one of the vessels that mutinied in 1910.

Brazil is a strange republic. Fanatical, where the Bible is burned in

the public plaza whenever introduced, yet, where the most obscene

prints are publicly offered for sale in the stores. Where it is a

"mortal sin" to listen to the Protestant missionary, and _not_ a sin to

break the whole Decalogue. Backward--where the villagers are tied to a

post and whipped by the priest when they do not please him.

Progressive--in the cities where religion has been relegated to women

and children and priests.

Did I write the word religion? Senhor Ruy Barbosa, the most conspicuous

representative of South America at the last Hague Conference, and a

candidate for the Presidency of Brazil, wrote of it: "_Romanism is not

a religion, but a political organization, the most vicious, the most

unscrupulous, and the most destructive of all political systems. The

monks are the propagators of fanaticism, the debasers of Christian

morals. The history of papal influence has been nothing more nor less

than the story of the dissemination of a new paganism, as full of

superstition and of all unrighteousness as the mythology of the

ancients--a new paganism organized at the expense of evangelical

traditions, shamelessly falsified and travestied by the Romanists. The

Romish Church in all ages has been a power, religious scarcely in name,

but always inherently, essentially and untiringly a political power_."

As Bishop Neely of the M. E. Church was leaving Rio, Dr. Alexander, one

of Brazil's most influential gentlemen, said to him: "_It is sad to see

my people so miserable when they might be so happy. Their ills,

physical and moral, spring from lack of religion. They call themselves

Catholics, but the heathen are scarcely less Christian_!" Is it

surprising that the Italian paper _L'Asino_ (The Ass), which exists

only to ridicule Romanism, has recently been publishing much in praise

of what it calls authentic Christianity?

"Rio Janeiro, the beautiful," is an imperial city of imposing grandeur.

It is the largest Portuguese city of the world--greater than Lisbon and

Oporto together. It has been called "the finest city on the continents

of America,--perhaps in the world, with unqualifiedly the most

beautiful street in all the world, the Avenida Central." [Footnote:

Clark. "Continent of Opportunity."] That magnificent avenue, over a

mile long and one hundred and ten feet wide, asphalt paved and superbly

illuminated, is lined with costly modern buildings, some of them truly

imposing. Ten people can walk abreast on its beautiful black and white

mosaic sidewalks. The buildings which had to be demolished in order to

build this superb avenue cost the government seven and a half millions

of dollars, and they were bought at their _taxed_ value, which, it was

estimated, was only a third of the actual. [Footnote: "But as a

wonderful city, the crowning glory of Brazil--yes of the world, I

believe--is Rio de Janeiro."--C. W. Furlong, in "The World's Work."]

Some years ago I knew a thousand people a day to die in Rio Janeiro of

yellow fever. It is now one of the healthiest of cities, with a

death-rate far less than that of New York.

Rio Janeiro, as I first knew it, was far behind. Oil lamps shed fitful

gleams here and there on half-naked people. Electric lights now dispel

the darkness of the streets, and electric streetcars thread in and out

of the "Ruas." There is progress everywhere and in everything.

To-day the native of Rio truthfully boasts that his city has "the

finest street-car system of any city of the world."

A man is not permitted to ride in these cars unless he wears a tie,

which seems to be the badge of respectability. To a visitor these

exactions are amusing. A friend of mine visited the city, and we rode

together on the cars until it was discovered that he wore no tie. The

day was hot, and my friend (a gentleman of private means) had thought

that a white silk shirt with turn-down collar was enough. We felt

somewhat humiliated when he was ignominiously turned off the car, while

the black ex-slaves on board smiled aristocratically. If you visit Rio

Janeiro, by all means wear a tie. If you forget your shirt, or coat, or

boots, it will matter little, but the absence of a tie will give the

negro cause to insult you.

Some large, box-like cars have the words "_Descalcos é Bagagem_"

(literally, "For the Shoeless and Baggage") printed across them. In

these the poorer classes and the tieless can ride for half-price. And

to make room for the constantly inflowing people from Europe, two great

hills are being removed and "cast into the sea."

Rio Janeiro may be earth's coming city. It somewhat disturbs our

self-complacency to learn that they have spent more for public

improvements than has any city of the United States, with the exception

of New York. Municipal works, involving an expenditure of $40,000,000,

have contributed to this.

Rio Janeiro, however, is not the only large and growing city Brazil can

boast of. Sao Paulo, with its population of 300,000 and its

two-million-dollar opera house, which fills the space of three New York

blocks, is worthy of mention. Bahia, founded in 1549, has 270,000

inhabitants, and is the centre of the diamond market of Brazil. Pará,

with its population of 200,000, who export one hundred million dollars'

worth of rubber yearly and keep up a theatre better than anything of

the kind in New York, is no mean city. Pernambuco, also, has 200,000

inhabitants, large buildings, and as much as eight million dollars have

recently been devoted to harbor improvements there.

Outside of these cities there are estates, quite a few of which are

worth more than a million dollars; one coffee plantation has five

million trees and employs five thousand people.

With its Amazon River, six hundred miles longer than the journey from

New York to Liverpool, England, with its eight branches, each of which

is navigable for more than a thousand miles, Brazil's future must be

very great.

CHAPTER XII.

_A JOURNEY FROM RIO JANEIRO TO THE INLAND TOWN OF CORUMBA_.

Brazil has over 10,000 miles of railway, but as it is a country larger

than the whole of Europe, the reader can easily understand that many

parts must be still remote from the iron road and almost inaccessible.

The town of Cuyabá, as the crow flies, is not one thousand miles from

Rio, but, in the absence of any kind of roads, the traveller from Rio

must sail down the one thousand miles of sea-coast, and, entering the

River Plate, proceed up the Paraná, Paraguay, and San Lorenzo rivers to

reach it, making it a journey of 3,600 miles.

"In the time demanded for a Brazilian to reach points in the interior,

setting out from the national capital and going either by way of the

Amazon or Rio de la Plata systems of waterways, he might journey to

Europe and back two or three times over." [Footnote: Sylvester Baxter,

in The Outlook, March, 1908.]

The writer on one occasion was in Rio when a certain mission called him

to the town of Corumbá, distant perhaps 1,300 miles from the capital.

Does the reader wish to journey to that inland town with him?

Boarding an ocean steamer at Rio, we sail down the stormy sea-coast for

one thousand miles to Montevideo. There we tranship into the Buenos

Ayres boat, and proceed one hundred and fifty miles up the river to

that city. Almost every day steamers leave that great centre for far

interior points. The "Rapido" was ready to sail for Asuncion, so we

breasted the stream one thousand miles more, when that city was

reached. There another steamer waited to carry us to Corumbá, another

thousand miles further north.

The climate and scenery of the upper reaches of the Paraguay are

superb, but our spirits were damped one morning when we discovered that

a man of our party had mysteriously disappeared during the night. We

had all sat down to dinner the previous evening in health and spirits,

and now one was missing. The All-seeing One only knows his fate. To us

he disappeared forever.

Higher up the country--or lower, I cannot tell which, for the river

winds in all directions, and the compass, from pointing our course as

due north, glides over to northwest, west, southwest, and on one or two

occasions, I believe, pointed due south--we came to the first Brazilian

town, Puerto Martinho, where we were obliged to stay a short time. A

boat put off from the shore, in which were some well-dressed natives.

Before she reached us and made fast, a loud report of a Winchester rang

out from the midst of those assembled on the deck of our steamer, and a

man in the boat threw up his arms and dropped; the spark of life had

gone out. So quickly did this happen that before we had time to look

around the unfortunate man was weltering in his own blood in the bottom

of the boat! The assassin, an elderly Brazilian, who had eaten at our

table and scarcely spoken to anyone, stepped forward quietly,

confessing that he had shot one of his old enemies. He was then taken

ashore in the ship's boat, there to await Brazilian justice, and later

on, to appear before a higher tribunal, where the accounts of all men

will be balanced.

Such rottenness obtains in Brazilian law that not long since a judge

sued in court a man who had bribed him and sought to evade paying the

bribe. Knowing this laxity, we did not anticipate that our murderous

fellow-traveller would have to suffer much for his crime. The _News_,

of Rio Janeiro, recently said: "The punishment of a criminal who has

any influence whatever is becoming one of the forgotten things."

After leaving Puerto Martinho, the uniform flatness of the river banks

changes to wild, mountainous country. On either hand rise high

mountains, whose blue tops at times almost frowned over our heads, and

the luxuriant tropical vegetation, with creeping lianas, threatened to

bar our progress. Huge alligators sunned themselves on the banks, and

birds of brilliant plumage flew from branch to branch. _Carpinchos_,

with heavy, pig-like tread, walked among the rushes of the shore, and

made more than one good dish for our table. This water-hog, the largest

gnawing animal in the world, is here very common. Their length, from

end of snout to tail, is between three and four feet, while they

frequently weigh up to one hundred pounds. The girth of their body will

often exceed the length by a foot. For food, they eat the many aquatic

plants of the river banks, and the puma, in turn, finds them as

delicious a morsel as we did. The head of this amphibious hog presents

quite a ludicrous aspect, owing to the great depth of the jaw, and to

see them sitting on their haunches, like huge rabbits, is an amusing

sight. The young cling on to the mother's back when she swims.

Farther on we stopped to take in wood at a large Brazilian cattle

establishment, and a man there assured us that "there were no venomous

insects except tigers," but these killed at least fifteen per cent. of

his animals. Not long previously a tiger had, in one night, killed five

men and a dog. The heat every day grew more oppressive. On the eighth

day we passed the Brazilian fort and arsenal of Cuimbre, with its brass

cannon shining in a sun of brass, and its sleepy inhabitants lolling in

the shade.

Five weeks after leaving Rio Janeiro we finally anchored in Corumbá, an

intensely sultry spot. Corumbá is a town of 5,000 inhabitants, and

often said to be one of the hottest in the world. It is an unhealthy

place, as are most towns without drainage and water supply. In the

hotter season of the year the ratio on a six months' average may be two

deaths to one birth. It is a place where dogs at times seem more

numerous than people, a town where justice is administered in ways new

and strange. Does the reader wish an instance? An assassin of the

deepest dye was given over by the judge to the tender mercies of the

crowd. The man was thereupon attacked by the whole population in one

mass. He was shot and stabbed, stoned and beaten until he became almost

a shapeless heap, and was then hurried away in a mule cart, and,

without coffin, priest or mourners, was buried like a dog.

Perhaps the populace felt they had to take the law into their own

hands, for I was told that the Governor had taken upon himself the

responsibility of leaving the prison gates open to thirty-two men, who

had quietly walked out. These men had been incarcerated for various

reasons, murder, etc., for even in this state of Matto Grosso an

assassin who cannot pay or escape suffers a little imprisonment. The

excuse was, "We cannot afford to keep so many idle men--we are poor."

What a confession for a Brazilian! I do not vouch for the story, for I

was not an eye-witness to the act, but it is quite in the range of

Brazilian possibilities. The only discrepancy may be the strange way of

Portuguese counting. A man buys three horses, but his account is that

he has bought twelve feet of horses. He embarks a hundred cows, but the

manifest describes the transaction as four hundred feet. The Brazilian

is in this respect almost a Yankee--little sums do not content him. Why

should they, when he can truthfully boast that his territory is larger

than that of the United States? His mile is longer than that of any

other nation, and the _bocadinho_, or extra "mouthful," which generally

accompanies it, is endless. Instead of having one hundred cents to the

dollar, he has two thousand, and each cent is called a "king." The

sound is big, but alas, the value of his money is insignificantly small!

The child is not content with being called John Smith. "José Maria

Jesus Joáo dois Sanctos Sylva da Costa da Cunha" is his name; and he

recites it, as I, in my boyhood's days, used to "say a piece" while

standing on a chair. There is no school in the town. In Brazil, 84 per

cent. of the entire population are illiterate.

Corumbá contains a few stores of all descriptions, but it would seem

that the stock in trade of the chemist is very low, for I overheard a

conversation between two women one day, who said they could not get

this or that--in fact, "he only keeps cures for stabs and such like

things." In the _armazems_ liquors are sold, and rice, salt and beans

despatched to the customer by the pint. Why wine and milk are not sold

by the pound I did not enquire.

One is not to ask too much in Brazil, or offence is given. When seated

at table one day with a comrade, who had the misfortune to swallow a

bone, I quietly "swallowed" the remedy a Brazilian told us of. He said

their custom was for all to turn away their heads, while the

unfortunate one revolved his plate around three times to the left, and

presto! the bone disappeared. My friend did not believe in the cure;

consequently, he suffered for several days.

I have said that dogs are numerous. These animals roam the streets by

day and night in packs and fight and tear at anyone or anything. Some

days before we arrived there were even more, but a few pounds of poison

had been scattered about the streets--which, by the way, are the worst

of any town I have ever entered--and the dog population of the world

decreased nine hundred. This is the Corumbá version. Perhaps the truth

is, nine hundred feet, or, as we count, two hundred and twenty-five

dogs. In the interests of humanity, I hope the number was nine hundred

heads. Five carts then patrolled the streets and carried away to the

outskirts those dead dogs, which were there burnt. I, the writer, find

the latter part of the story hardest to believe. Why should a freeborn

Brazilian lift dogs out of the street? In what better place could they

be? They would fill up the holes and ruts, and, in such intense heat,

why do needless work?

Corumbá is a typical Brazilian town. Little carts, drawn by a string of

goats or rams, thread their way through the streets. Any animal but the

human must do the work. As the majority of the people go barefooted,

the patriarchal custom prevails of having water offered on entering a

house to wash the feet. At all hours of the day men, women and children

seek to cool themselves in the river, which is here a mile wide, and

with a depth of 20 feet in the channel. While on the subject of

bathing, I might mention that a wooden image of the patron saint of the

town is, with great pomp, brought down at the head of a long

procession, once every year, to receive his annual "duck" in the water.

This is supposed to benefit him much. After his immersion, all the

inhabitants, men, women and children, make a rush to be the first to

dip in the "blessed water," for, by doing this, all their sins are

forgiven them for a year to come. The sick are careful to see that they

are not left in the position of the unfortunate one mentioned in the

Gospel by John, who "had no one to put him into the pool."

I have also known the Virgin solemnly carried down to the water's edge,

that she might command it to rise or fall, as suited the convenience of

the people. While she exercised her power the natives knelt around her

on the shingly beach in rapturous devotion. At such times the "Mother

of Heaven" is clothed in her best, and the jewels in her costume

sparkle in the tropical sun.

What the Nile is to Egypt, the Paraguay River is to these interior

lands, and what Isis was to the Egyptians, so is the Virgin to these

people. Once, when the waters were low, it is related the Virgin came

down from heaven and stood upon some rocks in the river bed. To this

day the pilot tells you how her footprints are to be clearly seen,

impressed in the stone, when the water is shallow. Strange that Mahomet

does not rise from his tomb and protest, for that miracle we must

concede to him, because his footprints have been on the sacred rocks at

Mecca for a thousand years. Does he pass it over, believing, with many,

that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?

Whatever Roman Catholicism is in other parts of the world, in South

America it is pure Mariolatry. The creed, as we have seen, reads: "Mary

must be our first object of worship, Saint Joseph the second." Along

with these, saints, living and dead, are numberless.

A traveller in South Brazil thus writes of a famous monk: "There, in a

shed at the back of a small farm, half sitting, half reclining on a mat

and a skin of some wild animal, was a man of about seventy years of

age, in a state of nudity. A small piece of red blanket was thrown over

his shoulders, barely covering them. His whole body was encrusted with

filth, and his nails had grown like claws. His vacant look showed him

to be a poor, helpless idiot. Beside him a large wood fire was kept

burning. The ashes of this fire, strewn around him for the sake of

cleanliness, are carried away for medicinal purposes by the thousands

of pilgrims who visit him. Men and women come from long distances to

see him, in the full persuasion that he is a holy man and has

miraculous powers." [Footnote: "The Neglected Continent"] Romanism is

thus seen to be in a double sense "a moral pestilence."

The church is, of course, very much in evidence in Corumbá, for it is a

very religious place. A _missa cantata_ is often held there, when a

noisy brass band will render dance music, often at the moat solemn

parts. The drums frequently beat until the worshippers are almost

deafened.

In the town of Bom Fim, a little further north, the priest runs a

"show" opposite his church, and over it are printed the words, "Theatre

of the Holy Ghost."

Think, O intelligent reader, how dense must be the darkness of Papal

America when a church notice, which anyone may see affixed to the door,

reads:

RAFFLE FOB SOULS.

A raffle for souls will be held at this Church on January 1st, at which

four bleeding and tortured souls will be released from purgatory to

heaven, according to the four highest tickets in this most holy

lottery. Tickets, $1.00. To be had of the father in charge. Will you,

for the poor sum of one dollar, leave your loved ones to burn in

purgatory for ages?

At the last raffle for souls, the following numbers obtained the prize,

and the lucky holders may be assured that their loved ones are forever

released from the flames of purgatory: Ticket 4l.--The soul of Madame

Coldern is made happy for ever. Ticket 762.--The soul of the aged

widow, Francesca de Parson, is forever released from the flames of

purgatory. Ticket 84l.--The soul of Lawyer Vasquez is released from

purgatory and ushered into heavenly joys. [Footnote: "Gospel Message."]

But, my reader asks, "Do the people implicitly believe all the priest

says?" No, sometimes they say, "Show us a sign." This was especially

true of the people living on the Chili-Bolivian border. The wily, yet

progressive, priest there made a number of little balloons, which on a

certain day of the year were sent up into the sky, bearing away the

sins of the people. Of course, when the villagers saw their sins float

away before their own eyes, enclosed in little crystal spheres, such as

_could not be earthly_, they believed and rejoiced. Yes, reader, the

South American priest is alive to his position after all, and even

"patents" are requisitioned. In some of the larger churches there is

the "slot" machine, which, when a coin is inserted, gives out _"The

Pope's blessing."_ This is simply a picture representing his Holiness

with uplifted hands.

The following is a literal translation, from the Portuguese, of a

"notice" in a Rio Janeiro newspaper:

FESTIVAL IN HONOR OF THE LADY OF NAZARETH.

"The day will be ushered in with majestic and deafening fireworks, and

the 'Hail Mary' rendered by the beautiful band of the----Infantry

regiment. There will be an intentional mass, grand vocal and

instrumental music, solemn vespers, the Gospel preached, and ribbons,

which have been placed round the neck of the image of St. Broz,

distributed.

"The square, tastefully decorated and pompously illuminated, will

afford the devotees, after their supplications to the Lord of the

Universe, the following means of amusement,-----the Chinese Pavilion,

etc.,-----. Evening service concluded, there will be danced in the

Flora Pavilion the _fandango à pandereta_. In the same pavilion a comic

company will act several pieces. On Sunday, upon the conclusion of the

Te Deum, the comic company will perform," etc.

The spiritual darkness is appalling. If the following can be written of

Pernambuco, a large city of 180,000 inhabitants, on the sea coast, the

reader can, in a measure, understand the priestly thraldom of these

isolated towns. A Pernambuco newspaper, in its issue of March 1st,

1903, contains an article headed, "Burning of Bibles," which says:

"As has been announced, there was realized in the square of the Church

of Penha, on the 22nd ult., at nine o'clock in the morning, in the

presence of more than two thousand people, the burning of two hundred

and fourteen volumes of the Protestant Bible, amidst enthusiastic

cheers for the Catholic religion, the immaculate Virgin Mary, and the

High Priest Leo XIII.--cheers raised spontaneously by the Catholic

people." [Footnote: Literal translation from the Portuguese.]

A colporteur, known to me, when engaged selling Bibles in a Brazilian

town, reports that the fanatical populace got his books and carried

them, fastened and burning, at the end of blazing torches, while they

tramped the streets, yelling: "Away with all false books!" "Away with

the religion of the devils!" A recent Papal bull reads: "Bible burnings

are most Catholic demonstrations."

Is it cause for wonder that the Spanish-American Republics have been so

backward?

I have seen a notice headed "SAVIOUR OF SOULS," making known the fact

that at a certain address a _Most Holy Reverend Father_ would be in

attendance during certain hours, willing to save the soul of any and

every applicant on payment of so much. That revelation which tells of a

Saviour without money or price is denied them.

Corumbá is a strange, lawless place, where the ragged, barefooted night

policeman inspires more terror in the law-abiding than the professional

prowler. The former has a sharp sword, which glitters as he threatens,

and the latter has often a kind heart, and only asks "mil reis" (about

thirty cents).

How can a town be governed properly when its capital is three thousand

miles distant, and the only open route thither is, by river and sea, a

month's journey? Perhaps the day is not far distant when Cuyabá, the

most central city of South America, and larger than Corumbá, lying

hundreds of miles further up the river, will set up a head of its own

to rule, or misrule, the province. Brazil is too big, much too big, or

the Government is too little, much too little.

The large states are subdivided into districts, or parishes, each under

an ecclesiastical head, as may be inferred from the peculiar names many

of them bear. There are the parishes of:

"Our Lady, Mother of God of Porridge."

"The Three Hearts of Jesus."

"Our Lady of the Rosary of the Pepper Tree."

"The Souls of the Sand Bank of the River of Old Women."

"The Holy Ghost of the Cocoanut Tree."

"Our Lady Mother of the Men of Mud."

"The Sand Bank of the Holy Ghost."

"The Holy Spirit of the Pitchfork."

The Brazilian army, very materially aided by the saints, is able to

keep this great country, with its many districts, in tolerable

quietness. Saint Anthony, who, when young, was _privileged to carry the

toys of the child Jesus_, is, in this respect, of great service to the

Brazilians. The military standing of Saint Anthony in the Brazilian

army is one of considerable importance and diversified service.

According to a statement of Deputy Spinola, made on the 13th of June,

the eminent saint's feast day, his career in the military service of

Brazil has been the following: By a royal letter of the 7th of April,

1707, the commission of captain was conferred upon the image of Saint

Anthony, of Bahia. This image was promoted to be a major of infantry by

a decree of September 13th, 1819. In July, 1859, his pay was placed

upon the regular pay-roll of the Department of War.

The image of St. Anthony in Rio de Janeiro, however, outranks his

counterpart of Bahia, and seems to have had a more brilliant military

record. His commission as captain dates from a royal letter of March

21st, 1711. He was promoted to be major of infantry in July, 1810, and

to be lieutenant-colonel in 1814. He was decorated with the Grand Cross

of the Order of Christ also, in 1814, and his pay as lieutenant-colonel

was made a permanent charge on the military list in 1833.

The image of St. Anthony of Ouro Preto attained the rank and pay of

captain in 1799. His career has been an uneventful one, and has been

confined principally to the not unpleasant task of drawing $480 a month

from the public treasury. The salaries of all these soldiery images are

drawn by duly constituted attorneys. [Footnote: Rio News]

Owing to bubonic plague, my stay in Corumbá was prolonged. I have been

in the city of Bahia when an average of 200 died every day from this

terrible disease, so Brazil is beginning to be more careful.

Though steamers were not running, perspiration was. Oh, the heat! In my

excursions in and around the town I found that even the mule I had

hired, acclimatized as it was to heat and thirst and hunger, began to

show signs of fatigue. Can man or beast be expected to work when the

temperature stands at 130 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade?

As the natives find bullocks bear the heat better than mules, I

procured one of these saddle animals, but it could only travel at a

snail's pace. I was indeed thankful to quit the oven of a town when at

last quarantine was raised and a Brazilian steamboat called.

Rats were so exceedingly numerous on this packet that they would

scamper over our bodies at night. So bold were they that we were

compelled to take a cudgel into our berths! A Brazilian passenger

declared one morning that he had counted three hundred rats on the

cabin floor at one time! I have already referred to Brazilian

numbering; perhaps he meant three hundred feet, or seventy-five rats.

With the heat and the rats, supplemented by millions of mosquitos, my

Corumbá journey was not exactly a picnic.